CHAPTER V.
SOUTHWARK (continued).—BANKSIDE IN THE OLDEN TIME.
"Totus orbis agit histrionem."
ppearance of Bankside in the Seventeenth Century—The Globe Theatre—Its Destruction by Fire—Shakespeare's Early Connection with the
Playhouse—James Burbage—Rebuilding of the Globe Theatre—Public and Private Theatres—The Rose Theatre—Ben Jonson—The Hope
and Swan Theatres—Paris Garden—Bear-baiting—Prize-fighting—Samuel Pepys' Description of the Sport—John Evelyn's Visit to Bankside—The "Master of the King's Bears"—Bad Repute of Paris Garden—Visit of Queen Elizabeth to Paris Garden—Bear Alley—Public
Gardens in Southwark—Bankside at the Time of the Great Fire of London—Dick Tarleton—The "Tumble-down Dick"—Waterside
Public-houses.
In the present chapter we must ask our readers
to transport themselves along with us, mentally,
some 250 or 300 years, to the Bankside with
which Shakespeare and Burbage, and Ben Jonson,
and Beaumont and Fletcher were familiar. They
will see no rows of densely-crowded courts and
alleys, with their idle and dissolute, gin-drinking
inhabitants; but before their eyes there will rise at
east three large round structures of singular appearance, not unlike small martello towers, open
to the sky above, together with one or two plots
of enclosed ground scaffolded about for the use
of spectators. These are the Paris Gardens, and
the Globe, the Hope, and the Swan Theatres.
And besides these, there are the stately palaces
of the Bishops of Winchester and Rochester, as
we have already shown; and all to the south are
green fields and hedgerows.
"On the southern bank of the Thames," writes
Mr. J. H. Jesse, in his "London," between Blackfriars Bridge and Southwark Bridge, is Bankside.
Here was the Globe Theatre, immortalised as the
spot where Shakespeare trod the stage; here was
the celebrated 'Paris Garden;' here stood the
circuses for 'bowll-baytyng' and 'beare-baytyng,'
where Queen Elizabeth entertained the French
ambassadors with the baiting of wild beasts. Here
stood the Falcon Tavern—the 'Folken Inne' as
it is styled in the ancient plans of Bankside—the daily resort of Shakespeare and his dramatic
companions; here, between Southwark Bridge and
London Bridge, the site still pointed out by 'Pike
Gardens,' were the pike-ponds, which once supplied our monarchs with fresh-water fish; and,
astly, here were the park and the palace of the
Bishop of Winchester."
It will be seen at once, from the above quotaion, that the ancient topography of the southern
bank of the Thames (or Bankside) between London and Blackfriars Bridges, is peculiarly interesting to the lover of dramatic lore, as well as to
the student of the sports and pastimes of our
ancestors. Down to the middle of the seventeenth
century, and probably much later, with the exception of a few houses extending westward along
the bank of the river, and sundry places of amusement, the greater part of the land hereabouts would
seem to have been waste and unenclosed.
The Globe Theatre, as already mentioned by
us, occupied part of the site now covered by
Messrs. Barclay and Perkins' Brewery.
In the "History of St. Saviour's, Southwark,"
published in 1795, we read that "the passage
which led to the Globe Tavern, of which the playhouse formed a part, was, till within these few
years, known by the name of Globe Alley, and
upon its site now stands a large storehouse for
porter." It was called the Globe from its sign,
which was a figure of Hercules, or Atlas, supporting a globe, under which was written, "Totus
mundus agit histrionem" ("All the world acts a
play"); and not, as many have conjectured, from
its circular shape; for the Globe, though a rotunda
within, was to the outward view a hexagon.
We have no description of the interior of the
Globe, but that it was somewhat similar to our
modern theatres, with an open space in the roof;
or perhaps it more resembled an inn-yard, where,
in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign, many
of our ancient dramatic pieces were performed.
The galleries in both were arranged on three sides
of the building; the small rooms under the lowest,
answered to our present boxes, and were called
rooms; the yard bears a sufficient resemblance
to the pit, as at present in use, and where the
common people stood to see the exhibition; from
which circumstance they are called by Shakespeare
"the groundlings," and by Ben Jonson "the understanding gentlemen of the ground." The stage was
erected in the area, with its back to the gateway,
where the admission money was generally taken.
The price of admission into the best rooms, or
boxes, was in Shakespeare's time a shilling, though
afterwards it appears to have risen to two shillings
and half-a-crown. The galleries, or scaffolds, as
they were sometimes called, and that part of the
house which in private theatres was named the
pit, seem to have been the same in price, which
was sixpence, while in some meaner playhouses it
was only a penny, and in others twopence.
The Globe Theatre, according to Mr. Dyce, in
his "Life of Shakespeare," was first opened late
in 1594, or early in the following year; at all
events, within twenty years of the opening of the
first theatre in London. During the summer,
the Lord Chamberlain's "servants,"—of whom
Shakespeare was one—acted at the Globe, returning in the winter to the theatre at Blackfriars,
which was more effectually sheltered from the
weather. They also occasionally changed their
venue by playing at the "Curtain," in Shoreditch,
and at the theatre in Newington Butts.
No sooner did James I. ascend the throne, than
he issued from Greenwich a royal proclamation,
authorising, by name, "Our servants, Lawrence
Fletcher, William Shakspeare, Richard Burbage,"
&c. &c., "freely to use and exercise the art and
faculty of plays, comedies, tragedies, histories, interludes, morals, pastorals, stage-plays, &c. &c.,
as well within their now usual house, called the
Globe, within our County of Surrey, as also within
any town halls … or other convenient places
within the liberties … of any other city, university, town, or borough whatever within our realms."
Shakespeare and his associates at this time
were at the head of the Lord Chamberlain's company, performing at the Globe in the summer;
but by virtue of it they ceased to be the Lord
Chamberlain's servants, and became "the king's
players." It may be added that " Mr. Shakespeare,
of the Globe," is mentioned in a letter from Mrs.
Alleyn to her husband, the founder of Dulwich
College.
If any doubt exist as to the extent of Shakespeare's connection with the theatres in Bankside,
it will be removed by the lines of Ben Jonson,
in allusion to the fondness for dramatic performances which marked our last Tudor and our
first Stuart sovereign:—
"Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear,
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames
That so did take Eliza and our James."
"It was here," writes Charles Mackay, in his
"Thames and its Tributaries," "near the spot still
called the Bankside, that the Globe Theatre stood
at the commencement of the seventeenth century;
the theatre of which Shakespeare himself was in
part proprietor, where some of his plays were
first produced, and where he himself performed
in them. It was of an octagonal form, partly
covered with thatch, as we learn from the account
in Stow, who tells us that in 1613, ten years after
it was first licensed to Shakespeare and Burbage,
and the rest, the thatch took fire by the negligent
discharge of a piece of ordnance, and in a very
short time the whole building was consumed. The
house was filled with people to witness the representation of King Henry the Eighth; but they all
escaped unhurt. This was the end of Shakespeare's theatre; it was rebuilt, however, apparently in a similar style, in the following year."
Theatres in those times were very different
structures from what they are in the present day;
they were unroofed, circular or hexagonal edifices,
shielded from the rain by a canvas covering, and
without scenery or decorations, as well as innocent
of "stalls" or "boxes," for the more aristocratic
part of the audience sat upon the stage, among
the performers, drinking beer and enjoying a
friendly pipe. The central area in the public
theatres was termed "the yard," the word "pit"
being restricted to private theatres; the pits
were furnished with seats, which was not the case
with the "yards." "Cressets, or large open
lanterns," writes Mr. Dyce, "served to illuminate
the body of the house; and two ample branches,
of a form similar to those now hung in churches,
gave light to the stage. The band of musicians,
which was far from numerous, sat, it is supposed,
in an upper balcony, over what is now called
the stage-box; the instruments chiefly used were
trumpets, cornets, hautboys, lutes, recorders, viols,
and organs. Nearly all these theatres were of
wood; and the public theatres were open to the
sky, the luxury of a roof being confined to 'private'
theatres—whatever these may have been. On the
outside of each was a sign indicative of its name;
and on the roof a flag was hoisted during the time
of performance."
The peculiar construction of the theatre in
Shakespeare's time is referred to by the poet himself, for he thus speaks of the Globe Theatre in
the play of Henry V.:—
"Can this vast cockpit hold
The field of vasty France? or can we cram
Into this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?"
In these early days of the drama, a curtain
occupied the place of scenery, while the scene
supposed to be represented was inscribed on a
board, and hung up at the back of the stage,
such, for instance, as "This is a house," or
"This is a garden."
"Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts"
is the bidding of the poet; and he spoke to an
audience who could do even better than that,
who could forget them altogether, in their apprehension of the spiritual grandeur and magnificence
that was then with them in the cockpit. "There
is something, it must be owned," observes Charles
Knight, in his "London," "occasionally amusing,
as well as delightful, in the simplicity of the
old stage: in Greene's Pinner of Wakefield, two
parties are quarrelling, and one of them says,
'Come, sir, will you come to the town's end,
now?' in order to fight. 'Aye, sir, come,' answers
the other; and both then, we presume, move a
few feet across the stage, to another part; but
evidently that is all, for in the next line the
speaker continues, 'Now we are at the town's
end—what shall we say now?'" And yet it was
here, and with such accessories as those mentioned
above, that were first produced nearly all the wonderful plays of the mighty poet.
An account of the accident mentioned above
is given by Sir Henry Wotton, in a letter dated
July 2, 1613: "Now to let matters of state sleepe,
I will entertain you at the present with what
happened this week at the Banks side. The
King's players had a new play, called All is True,
representing some principal pieces of the reign of
Henry VIII., which set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty even
to the matting of the stage; the knights of the
order with their Georges and Garter, the guards
with their embroidered coats, and the like; sufficient in truth within awhile to make greatness
very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now King Henry
making a masque at the Cardinal Wolsey's house,
and certain cannons being shot off at his entry,
some of the paper or other stuff, wherewith one
of them was stopped, did light on the thatch,
where, being thought at first but idle smoak,
and their eyes more attentive to the show, it
kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole house
to the very ground. This was the fatal period of
that virtuous fabrick, wherein yet nothing did
perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken
cloaks; only one man had his breeches set on
fire, that would perhaps have broyled him, if he
had not, by the benefit of a provident wit, put it
out with a bottle of ale."
From a letter of Mr. John Chamberlaine to
Sir Ralph Winwood, dated July 8, 1613, in which
this accident is likewise mentioned, we learn that
the theatre had only two doors. "The burning
of the Globe or playhouse on the Bankside on
St. Peter's day cannot escape you; which fell out
by a peal of chambers (that I know not upon
what occasion were to be used in the play), the
tampin or stopple of one of them lighting in the
thatch that covered the house, burn'd it down to
the ground in less than two hours, with a dwellinghouse adjoyning; and it was a great marvaile and
a fair grace of God that the people had so little
harm, having but two narrow doors to get out."
In 1613 was entered in the Stationers' books,
"A doleful Ballad of the General Conflagration of
the famous Theatre called the Globe."
Taylor, the water poet, commemorates the event
in the following lines:—
"As gold is better that in fire's tried,
So is the Bankside Globe, that late was burn'd;
For where before it had a thatched hide,
Now to a stately theatre 'tis turn'd;
Which is an emblem that great things are won
By those that dare through greatest dangers run."
It is also alluded to in some verses by Ben
Jonson, entitled "An Execration upon Vulcan,"
from which it appears that Ben Jonson was in
the theatre when it was burnt.
The exhibitions given at the Globe appear to
have been calculated for the lower class of people,
and to have been more frequent than those at
the Blackfriars, till early in the seventeenth century, when it became less fashionable and frequented. The Globe was immediately contiguous
to the Bear Garden; and it is probable, therefore,
that those who resorted thither went to the theatre
when the bear-baiting sports were over, and such
persons were not likely to form a very refined
audience.
It has often been said that Shakespeare, on his
first arrival in London from Stratford-on-Avon,
was received into the playhouse in a subordinate
position, and associated with company of a mean
and low rank; but Mr. Dyce sees reason for believing that "he never was attached to any other
company (of players) than that which owned the
Blackfriars and the Globe." Among Shakespeare's
fellows at this time were Marlowe, Greene, Lodge,
Beaumont, Fletcher, Peele, Chettle, Burbage, and
a few others.
We have already made some mention of Burbage in our account of Blackfriars Theatre, (fn. 1) but
as there is a certain sense in which "Master"
James Burbage, carpenter, &c., of the parish of
St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, may be regarded as the
father of the English stage, some additional notice
of him here, in connection with the Globe, may
not be altogether out of place. Although the
drama had flourished in the shape, at all events,
of miracle-plays and such-like performances in
the ages before the Reformation, yet under our
Tudor sovereigns the drama was not held in high
honour, nor was the profession of a dramatist
regarded as worthy of respect. Royal and court
authority had all along set its face against plays
and interludes as dangerous to the morals of the
young, and, therefore, things to be forbidden to
the citizens of London and their apprentices.
Indeed, all plays were strictly interdicted within
the City; and on one occasion, when it became
known that a play was to be performed at the
"Boar's Head," in Aldgate, the Lord Mayor received an order from Queen Mary to stop the
performance. In the early part of Elizabeth's
reign it was found that the dramatic element was
too strongly mixed up with human nature to be
quite suppressed, and that it was better to bear
with and hold in check what could not be utterly
forbidden. Accordingly, in the year 1575, when
the Lord Mayor had issued an edict altogether
inhibiting plays within the circuit of the City, one
James Burbage, a carpenter, bethought himself that
he would erect a structure of wood, which would
serve for a theatre, on a site just beyond the
Lord Mayor's jurisdiction. Two circumstances
favoured his idea: firstly, his father-in-law was a
man of substance, owning a few houses at Shoreditch; and secondly, in the previous year, just
prior to the revels at Kenilworth, Queen Elizabeth
had permitted her favourite, the Earl of Leicester,
to collect a body of actors, and to enrol them
under a patent from the crown. At the head of
this body was placed James Burbage. Aided by
the help of his father-in-law, he obtained from
a neighbour a lease of some land in Shoreditch,
with permission from the landlord to build on it
a theatre of wood. He did so forthwith; the
play-house was opened; crowds flocked to it, and
it was soon known over London as "The Theatre."
Its success was so great that some opposition was
soon threatened; but Burbage saw his chance,
and built hard by a rival theatre, which he called
"The Curtain." These two buildings became the
nursery of the English stage. In the one Ben
Jonson obtained his first engagement as a writer
and vamper of plays, and took to the stage for
a living. Encouraged by his double success at
Shoreditch, James Burbage grew bolder, and soon
afterwards erected a third theatre at Blackfriars,
under the nose of the Lord Mayor and of the
lords and ladies who lived around the Bridewell
Palace; and in spite of their remonstrances, he
held his own, supported, no doubt, by Leicester's
influence. In the year 1576 he opened the Blackfriars Theatre, which soon became the leading play
house of the metropolis, and which is connected
with the name of William Shakespeare.
BEN JONSON.
MAP OF SOUTHWARK, 1720.
Several other playhouses now sprung up in
quick succession—viz., the "Red Bull" and the
"Fortune," in the north of London; and on the
south of the river, in Southwark, the "Rose," the
"Hope," the "Swan," and the "Globe," near
the "Bear Garden." Driven out of the City, and
put to their wits' end for an honest livelihood, the
poor players, who now began to style themselves
"Her Majesty's Servants," began to build theatres
in all the suburbs; and to James Burbage is due
the credit of having enabled them to do so. In
fact, until he came forward to assist the poor
dramatists by his skill as a carpenter, and, in
some sense, manager too, there was no combined
effort at producing a genuine English drama. But
from the moment that James Burbage, like a
second Thespis, erected his wooden theatre in
Shoreditch, the calling of the player began to
assume a definite character, and acting grew into
the dignity of an art and a profession. Shakespeare found all these theatres, and others too, in
existence when he came to London from Stratford
in 1585 or the following year; and it is quite
possible that, if it had not been for James Burbage,
he would never have come to the metropolis, or
written for us and for all time either Hamlet or
Macbeth, as he would have had no stage on which
to perform them. At all events, when he came
to town, and joined the company at the Blackfriars, he became a fast friend of James Burbage
and of his son Richard, who became the Roscius
of his age, and the original actor of most of
Shakespeare's principal characters. The elder
Burbage did not live to see the lease of his first
theatre expire, and the building demolished and
carried across the river into Southwark by his
son Cuthbert. But he saw the Earl of Leicester's
actors formally established as members of a recognised profession, and able to influence the age in
which they lived. James Burbage died about the
year 1594; his son Richard survived him for
twenty years, dying two years before his friend
Will Shakespeare. It may be of interest to add
that the whole Burbage family lived and died in
Holywell (now High) Street, Shoreditch, and were
buried, along with several other "poor players,"
in St. Leonard's churchyard.
In 1596 Shakespeare appears to have lived near
the Bear Garden, in Southwark. "I have yet to
learn," writes Mr. Dyce, "that the fancy of Shakespeare could not luxuriate in rural images, even
amid the fogs of Southwark and Blackfriars."
Shakespeare does not appear to have sustained
any loss by the burning of the Globe Theatre,
for he had parted with his interest in theatrical
property on retiring to Stratford-on-Avon. His late
partners, however, were sufferers to a very considerable extent, and Shakespeare, in all probability,
contributed—along with King James and many
of the nobility and gentry of the day—to the
rebuilding of the theatre in the course of the
following year.
As is well known, the line quoted as a motto
to this chapter was the motto of the Globe
Theatre; but it may not be known that this
motto was the cause of two couplets of verse, by
Ben Jonson and Shakespeare respectively, quoted
by Mr. Dyce from "Poetical Characteristics," a
manuscript formerly in the Harleian collection.
Ben asks—
"If but stage-actors all the world displays,
Where shall we find spectators of their plays?"
To this "Gentle Will" replies, with pleasant
repartee:—
"Little or much of what we see we do;
We're all both actors and spectators too."
Besides the Globe, there were, as stated above,
three other theatres on the Bankside, called the
"Rose," the "Hope," and the "Swan." These
appear, for some undiscovered reason, to have
been called "private" theatres. "There was this
difference between these and the Globe and other
public theatres, that the latter were open to the
sky, except over the stage and galleries; but the
private theatres were completely covered in from
the weather. On the roof of all of them, whether
public or private, a flag was always hoisted to
mark the time of the performances.
The Rose Theatre had the honour of numbering Ben Jonson, in his early days, as one of its
play-writers. In Henslowe's "Diary," the manager,
under date July 28, 1597, acknowledges the receipt
of 3s. 9d. as part of "Bengemmens Johnsone's
share;" and, from another entry, it would appear
that on the same day Henslowe lent him four
pounds. Early in the December of the same
year, there is an entry of twenty shillings lent to
Jonson upon a book which he was to write for the
company before Christmas, the plot having been
already shown to its members. These facts show
that he had then gained some standing, though not,
perhaps, a very high one, as a dramatic writer.
From the Rose we follow him to the Globe,
where we find him for the first time associated
with Shakespeare, on whose recommendation the
company of that theatre accepted his first very
successful hit, Every Man in his Humour, which
drew on him the notice of Queen Elizabeth.
Whilst writing for the theatres, Ben Jonson lived
on the Bankside, whence he afterwards removed to
the house of a wool-comber, just outside Temple
Bar, and close to the "Devil Tavern," where we
have already made his acquaintance. (fn. 2)
The Rose Theatre stood at the north end of
what was formerly called Rose Alley; it is mentioned by Taylor the "water-poet," in his "True
Cause of the Waterman's Suit concerning Players,"
1615. The Hope Theatre was near at hand,
though we cannot identify its site precisely.
The Swan Theatre, near the Globe, was standing
previous to 1598, and was so named from a house
and tenement called the "Swan," mentioned in a
charter of Edward VI., by which the manor of
Southwark is granted to the City of London. It
fell into decay in the reign of James I., was closed
in 1613, and was subsequently used only for gladiatorial exhibitions. Yet in its time it had been well
frequented; for a contemporary author says, "It
was the continent of the world, because half the
year a world of beauties and brave spirits resorted
to it."
It may be mentioned here, in passing, that on this
side of the Thames there was also another theatre
at Newington Butts, of which, however, we know
little except the fact that it was "frequented by
the citizens in summer." In the days of the late
Tudors and early Stuarts, the performances usually
commenced at 3 p.m., and the prices of admission
ranged from "a shilling for the best boxes or
rooms," down to sixpence, twopence, and even a
penny for the pit and galleries; and it is worthy of
note that in the reign of the Protestant Elizabeth
plays were acted both publicly and at Court on
Sundays as well as on other days of the week, and
under her successor at Court.
But the theatres were not, as already hinted, the
only places of public amusement along the Bankside. A sort of circus, called at the time the Paris
Garden, was erected and opened here about the
middle of the sixteenth century, as a place for
bear-baiting. The public were admitted by the
payment of a penny at the gate, a penny at the
"entry of the scaffold" or raised seats, and a third
penny for "quiet standing." So popular indeed
did the sport become that it even trenched on the
theatres proper, and reduced their receipts. In
1591, as Mr. Chambers tells us in his "Book of
Days," an order was issued from the Privy Council
forbidding plays to be acted on Thursdays, because
that day had been long set apart for "bear-baiting
and such pastimes." The Lord Mayor of London
appears to have followed with a public notice complaining that "in some places the players do use
to recite their plays to the great hurt and destruction of the game of bear-baiting and such like
pastimes, which are maintained for her Majesty's
pleasure." It may be remarked that Elizabeth had
been right royally entertained by Lord Leicester
at Kenilworth with combats of dogs and bears,
and no doubt often amused herself by witnessing
the same scenes nearer home; so that in all probability she was occasionally present at Bankside,
when, as we are told, "the baiting of bulls and of
bears was the favourite holiday pastime of her
Londoner subjects."
In Aggas's plan of London, taken in 1574, and
in the plan taken by Braun about the same time,
the bear-gardens are represented as plots of ground
with scaffolding for the spectators, bearing the
names of the "Bowlle Baytyng," and the "Beare
Baytynge." "In both plans," says Thomas Allen,
in his "History of Surrey," "the buildings appear
to be circular, and to have been evidently intended
as humble imitations of the ancient Roman amphitheatre. They stood in two adjoining fields, separated only by a small strip of land; but some
differences are observable in the spots on which
they are built. In Aggas's plan, which is the
earlier of the two, the strip of land; but some
between them contains only one large pond,
common to the two places of exhibition; but in
Braun's this appears divided into three ponds, besides a similar conveniency near each theatre. The
use of these pieces of water is very well explained
in 'Brown's Travels' (1685), where we find a plate
of the 'Elector of Saxony his beare garden at
Dresden,' in which is a large pond, with several
bears amusing themselves in it, the account of
which is highly curious:—'In the hunting-house in
the old town are fifteen bears, very well provided
for, and looked unto. They have fountains and
ponds to wash themselves in, wherein they much
delight; and near to the pond are high ragged posts
or trees set up for the bears to climb up, and scaffolds made at the top to sun and dry themselves;
where they will also sleep, and come and go as the
keeper calls them.' The ponds and dog-kennels
for the bears on the Bankside are clearly marked
in the plans alluded to; and the construction of
the amphitheatres themselves may be tolerably well
conceived, notwithstanding the smallness of the
scale on which they are drawn. They evidently
consisted, withinside, of a lower tier of circular
seats for the spectators, at the back of which a sort
of screen ran all round, in part open, so as to admit
a view from without, evident in Braun's delineation
by the figures who are looking through on the outside. The buildings are unroofed, and in both
plans are shown during the time of performance,
which in Aggas's view is announced by the display
of little flags or streamers on the top. The dogs
are tied up in slips near each place of 'baytyng,'
ready for the sport, and the combatants are actually
engaged in Braun's plan. Two little houses for
retirement are at the head of each theatre."
The "Bear Garden," as this place came in process
of time to be called, was still a place of frequent
and favourite resort among the cavaliers of the
reign of Charles I.; but the sport of bear-baiting
went against the consciences, or, at all events, the
stomachs, of the "Roundheads," who did their
very best to suppress it. At the Restoration, however, it was revived (with some of the least good
points of the Royalist faith and practice), and the
Paris Garden again looked up, though only for a
time.
As a specimen of the sort of amusements which
went on here under the Stuart kings, let us take the
following out of Samuel Pepys's "Diary" for 1666.
He writes, under date of August 14, a few days
before the Great Fire of London:—"After dinner,
I went with my wife and Mercer to the BearGarden, where I have not been, I think, of many
years, and saw some good sport of the bulls tossing
the dogs—one into the very boxes; but it is a very
rude and nasty pleasure. We had a great many
Hectors in the same box with us (and one very fine
went into the pit and played his dog for a wager,
which was a strange sport for a gentleman), where
they drank wine, and drank Mercer's health first,
which I pledge with my hat off."
On the 28th of May in the following year, Pepys
was again here; for under that date we find him
writing:—"Abroad, and stopped at Bear-garden
Stairs, there to see a prize fought. But the house
so full there was no getting in there, so forced to
go through an ale-house into the pit, where the
bears are baited; and upon a stool did see them
fight, which they did very furiously, a butcher and
a waterman. The former had the better all along,
till by-and-by the latter dropped his sword out of
his hand, and the butcher, whether or not seeing
his sword dropped I know not, but did give him a
cut over the wrist, so as he was disabled to fight
any longer. But Lord! to see in a minute how
the whole stage was full of watermen to revenge
the foul play, and the butchers to defend their
fellow, though most blamed him: and there they
all fell to it, knocking and cutting down many
on each side. It was pleasant to see; but that
I stood in the pit and feared that in the tumult
I might get some hurt. At last the battle broke
up, and so I away."
Again he writes, under date September 9th of
the same year: "To the Bear Garden, where now
the yard was full of people, and those most of them
seamen, striving by force to get in. I got into the
common pit, and there, with my cloak about my
face, I stood and saw the prize fought, till one of
them, a shoemaker, was so cut in both his wrists,
that he could not fight any longer; and then they
broke off. His enemy was a butcher. The sport
very good; and various humours to be seen among
the rabble that is there."
The inimitable secretary would seem to have
been rather partial to this rough kind of sport, for
we again find him here on the 12th of April, 1669,
as shown by the following entry, under that date
in his "Diary:"—"By water to the Bear Garden,
and there happened to sit by Sir Fretchville Hollis,
who is still full of his vain-glorious and prophane
talk. Here we saw a prize fought between a
soldier and a country fellow, one Warrel, who
promised the least in his looks, and performed the
most of valour in his boldness and evenness of
mind, and smiles in all he did, that ever I saw;
and we were all both deceived and infinitely taken
with him. He did soundly beat the soldier, and
cut him over the head. Thence back to White
Hall, mightily pleased all of us with the sight,
and particularly this fellow, as a most extraordinary
man for his temper and evenness in fighting."
John Evelyn went on one occasion to witness
the "sports" at Bankside, but apparently he was
too disgusted to go there again. Here is the
record of his visit, as told in his "Diary" under date
of 16th of June, 1670:—"I went with some friends
to the Bear Garden, where was cock-fighting, dogfighting, beare and bull baiting, it being a famous
day for all these butcherly sports, or rather barbarous cruelties. The bulls did exceeding well,
but the Irish wolfe-dog exceeded, which was a tall
greyhound, a stately creature indeede, who beate a
cruell mastiff. One of the bulls toss'd a dog full
into a lady's lap, as she sat in one of the boxes at a
considerable height from the arena. Two poore
dogs were kill'd, and so all ended with the ape on
horseback, and I most heartily weary of the rude
and dirty pastime."
Chambers, in his "Book of Days," quotes a
statement from the learned Erasmus, who visited
England in the reign of Henry VIII., to the effect
that the royal establishment included a "Master of
the King's Bears," and that even the great noblemen had their bear-wards; and that "many 'herds
of bears' were regularly trained for the arena."
He also extracts from Laneham's account of the
festivities at Kenilworth Castle the following picturesque description of a bear-baiting held on
July 14, 1575, the sixth day of her Majesty's stay,
when thirteen bears and a number of ban-dogs
(a kind of mastiff) were tied up ready in the inner
court. Laneham quaintly writes, comparing the
baiting to a scene in Westminster Hall:—"The
bears were brought forth into the court, the dogs
set to them, to argue the points, even face to face.
They had learned counsel also of both parts (i.e.,
on both sides) . … Very fierce, both th' one
and tother, and eager in argument. If the dog in
pleading would pluck the bear by the throat, the
bear, with traverse, would claw him again by the
scalp; confess an he list but avoid he could not
that was bound to the bar: and his counsel told
him that it could do him no policy in pleading.
Therefore, thus with fending and fearing, with
plucking and tugging, scratching and biting, by
plain tooth and nail to (the one) side and tother,
such expense of blood and of leather was there
between them as a month's licking, I ween, will
not recover; and yet they remain as far out as
ever they were. It was a sport very pleasant
of these beasts to see the bear with his pink eyes
leering after his enemy's approach, the nimbleness
and weight of the dog to take his advantage, and
the force and experience of the bear again to avoid
the assault: if he were bitten in one place, he
would pinch in another to get free: if he were
taken once, then what shift with biting, with
clawing, with roaring, tossing, and tumbling, he
would work to wind himself from them, and when
he was loose, to shake his ears twice or thrice, with
the blood and the slaver about his phisnomy (sic)
was a matter of goodly relief."
Ben Jonson is reproached by Dekker with having
been so degraded as to have performed at Paris
Garden. These places seem always to have been
in bad repute even when they flourished most.
Crowley, a versifier of the reign of Henry VIII.,
thus speaks of the Paris Garden:—
"What folly is this to keep with danger
A great mastiff dog and foul ugly bear,
And to this anent, to see them two fight
With terrible tearings, a full ugly sight:
And methinks these men are most fools of all
Whose store of money is but very small.
And yet every Sunday they will surely spend
One penny or two, the bearward's living to mend.
"At Paris Garden, each Sunday, a man shall not fail
To find two or three hundred for the bearward's vale:
One half-penny apiece they use for to give,
When some have not more in their purses, I believe.
Well, at the last day their consciences will declare
That the poor ought to have all that they may spare.
If you, therefore, go to witness a bear-fight,
Be sure God His curse will upon you light."
Pennant, who quotes these verses, seems to
consider the last two lines as a prophecy of the
calamity that happened at the Garden in the year
1582. An accident, "heaven-directed," as he says,
befell the spectators; the scaffolding, crowded with
people, suddenly fell, and more than a hundred
persons were killed or severely wounded. The
Bear Garden, it may be added, in spite of its name,
would appear to have been chiefly used, during the
latter period of its existence, for bull-baiting.
Randolph, in his "Muse's Looking-glass," makes
the following reference to this particular species of
amusement:—
"——Lastly, he wished
The bull might cross the Thames to the Bear Garden,
And there be sorely baited."
It was to the Globe Theatre and the Bear
Garden probably that Hentzner alludes in his
"Travels in England," published in the reign of
Elizabeth, when he writes:—"Without the city are
some theatres, where actors do represent almost
every day some tragedy or comedy to numerous
audiences: these are concluded with excellent
music, a variety of dances, amid the excessive
applause of those that are present. There is also
another place, built in the form of a theatre, which
serves for the baiting of bulls and of bears; they
are fastened behind, and then worried by great
English bull-dogs, but not without great risque
to the dogs, from the horns of the one, and the
teeth of the other; and it sometimes happens they
are killed on the spot; fresh ones are immediately
supplied in the places of those that are wounded or
tired. To this entertainment there often follows
that of whipping a blinded bear, which is performed
by five or six men, standing circularly with whips,
which they exercise upon him without any mercy,
as he cannot escape from them because of his
chain; he defends himself with all his force and
skill, throwing down all who come within his
reach, and are not active enough to get out of it;
on which occasions he frequently tears the whips
out of their hands, and breaks them. At these
spectacles, and everywhere else, the English are
constantly smoking tobacco. In the theatres, fruits,
such as apples, pears, and nuts, according to the
season, are carried about to be sold, as well as ale
and wine."
The theatres and gardens at Bankside, however,
in spite of their bad reputation, were occasionally
patronised by royalty; for we read that Queen
Elizabeth, on the 26th of May, 1599, went by
water with the French ambassadors to Paris
Gardens, where they saw a baiting of bulls and
bears. Indeed, Southwark seems to have long
been of sporting notoriety, for, in the Humorous
Lovers, printed in 1617, one of the characters
says, "I'll set up my bills, that the gamesters of
London, Horsley-down, Southwark, and Newmarket may come in and bait him [the bear] here
before the ladies," &c. It may here be added,
as a scrap of antiquarian information, that the first
exhibition of bear-baiting in England of which we
read, was in the reign of King John, at Ashby-de-laZouch, where "thyss straynge passtyme was introduced by some Italyans for his highness' amusement,
wherewith he and his court were highly delighted."
It is clear that the "sport" to be witnessed in
the Bear Garden was still under the patronage and
countenance of royalty some century or so later
than the reign of Elizabeth, for in 1675 we read
of a warrant signed by Lord Arlington, ordering
ten pounds to be paid to Mr. James Davies, the
"master of his Majesty's bears, bulls, and dogs,"
for "making ready the rooms at the Bear Garden,
and baiting the bears before the Spanish ambassadors."
The celebrated actor, Alleyn—the founder of
Dulwich College, of whom we shall have more to
say anon—enjoyed this lucrative post as "keeper
of the king's wild beasts, or master of the Royal
Bear Garden, situated on the Bankside in Southwark." The profits of this place are said by his
biographer to have been "immense," sometimes
amounting to £500 a year; and will account for
the great fortune of which he died possessed. A
little before his death, he sold his share and patent
to his wife's father, a Mr. Hinchtoe, for £580.
Isaac D'Israeli, in his "Life of Charles I.," mentions the fact that the Sabbatarian view of Sunday
was much advanced in London by the accident
mentioned above which occurred here in 1582:—"At Paris Garden, where public amusements were
performed on Sundays, a crowded scaffold gave
way; and by this accident, some were killed, and
many were wounded." The Lord Mayor (who
was a leading Puritan) made religious capital out
of the fact by sending a formal notice of it to
Lord Burleigh, as a "judgment of heaven for the
violation of the Sabbath," thereby confusing the
seventh with the first day of the week.
THE BOROUGH, HIGH STREET, IN 1825.
We find that, in spite of his Puritan education,
King James I. had the good sense to legalise
those rational amusements without which life in a
crowded metropolis would be past endurance. It
is well known that he published the "Book of
Sports," but it is not equally well known that
in 1620 he issued his royal licence to Clement
Cottrell, the groom-porter of his household, to
license certain houses for bowling-alleys and tennis-courts, and even for cards and dice. Twenty-four
bowling-alleys were licensed under this authority
in London and Westminster, four more in Southwark, one in St. Catherine's, one in Shoreditch, and
two in Lambeth. Within these same limits, fourteen
tennis-courts were allowed, and also forty "taverns
or ordinaries for playing at cards and dice." The
reasons alleged for this royal grant are stated by
Anderson, in the quaint language of the time, to
have been for "the honest and reasonable recreation of good and civil people, who for their quality
and ability may lawfully use the games of bowling,
tennis, dice, cards, tables, nine-holes, or any other
game hereafter to be invented."
The Puritans' aversion to the sport, however, as
Macaulay remarks, arose not so much from pity for
the bull or the bear, as from envy at the pleasure
felt by the spectators. Verily, an amiable and
saint-like trait! On the Restoration of Charles II.,
and the downfall of the Puritan faction, it can
hardly be a matter of surprise to find that the
legislation which had so long been applied to the
suppression of even rational amusements should
have taken a swing in the opposite direction.
It may be added, that although bear-baiting and
bull-baiting never flourished under our later Stuart
or our earlier Hanoverian sovereigns, it was not
until 1835 that the practice was actually put down
by Act of Parliament, which forbade the keeping
of any house, pit, or other place for baiting or fighting any bull, bear, dog, or other animal. "And
thus," observes Mr. Chambers, "after an existence
of at least seven centuries, this ceased to rank
among the amusements of the English people."
SOUTHWARK FAIR. (After Hogarth's Picture.)
Strype, in his first edition of "Stow," published
in 1720, speaking of Bear Alley, on this spot, says,
"Here is a glass-house, and about the middle a
new-built court, well inhabited, called Bear Garden
Square, so called, as being built in the place where
the Bear Garden formerly stood, until removed to
the other side of the water; which is more convenient for the butchers and such like, who are
taken with such rustic sports as the baiting of bears
and bulls."
In the early part of the last century it would
seem that another Bear Garden at Hockley in-the-Hole, near Clerkenwell, had superseded this
place of amusement in the public favour, probably
on account of the absence of bridges across the
Thames; and consequently, when it is suggested in
the Spectator of August 11th, 1711, that those who
go to theatres merely for a laugh had better "seek
their diversion at the Bear Garden," in all probability the reference is not to Bankside.
The name of the Bear Garden, however, still
exists in this neighbourhood, being painted up
at the corner of a court between the Bankside and
Sumner Street.
The old Paris Garden—the name of which, too,
still survives in this locality—was circular, open
to the sky, surrounded with a high wall, without
external windows; the scaffolds, or boxes, were in
a wooden structure in the interior, surmounted by
a high-pitched roof and a cupola.
The names of these and of many other such
places of amusement bear testimony to the spirit of
national jollity on the part of Londoners during
the eighteenth century. But pleasure-gardens are
almost as transitory as pleasure itself; of all these
not one now remains "the sad historian of the
pensive tale" of bygone mirth and merriment.
The jests have passed away, and so are the trees
beneath which, and the walls within which, those
jests were uttered, and those who pealed back
echoes of the loudest laughter are silent in their
graves.
In the neighbourhood of the theatres were
several public gardens near the Thames, then a
pellucid and beautiful stream. There were the
Queen's Pike Gardens (now Pye Gardens), where
pike were bred in ponds; the Asparagus Garden,
and Pimlico Garden. The last-named was a very
fashionable resort, and famous for the handsome
dresses of the promenaders. Indeed, to "walk
in Pimlico" was a proverbial phrase for an introduction to the very élite of society.
In Chambers' "Book of Days" is given a view
of London during the Great Fire in 1666, as seen
from the rear of Bankside, from a print of the period
by Visscher. The foreground is poetically raised,
so as to represent a fairly high hill, though there
is no high ground all the way down to Clapham;
on it are sitting well-dressed citizens coolly surveying the disaster, while their dogs are lying asleep
by their side. Evelyn writes in his "Diary:"—"2 Sept. This fatal night, about ten, began that
deplorable fire neere Fish Streete in London.—3.
I had public prayers at home. The fire continuing,
after dinner I took coach with my wife and sonn,
and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we
beheld the dismal spectacle, the whole Citty in
dreadfull flames neare the water side; all the houses
from the Bridge, all Thames Street, and upwards
towards Cheapside, downe to the Three Cranes,
were now consum'd. . . . . The poore inhabitants were dispers'd about St. George's Fields,
and Moorefields as far as Highgate, and severall
miles in circle, some under tents, some under
miserable hutts and hovells, many without a rag or
any necessary utensils, bed or board, who from
delicatenesse, riches, and easy accommodations in
stately and well furnish'd houses, were now reduced
to extreamest misery and poverty."
Chambers tells us, in his work above quoted,
that there was an ale-house in Southwark, which
had on its walls an authentic portrait of Dick
Tarleton, the eccentric comic actor of Elizabeth's
time. No doubt this "ale-house" was in the
neighbourhood of Bankside; but though Dick's
name was kept up by tradition for upwards of
a century, and though his jests were collected
and published, with notes and illustrations, by
the Shakespeare Society, it is impossible now to
identify the house in which many of Shakespeare's
players no doubt used to congregate.
Another old tavern, formerly standing in the
neighbourhood, bore the sign of "The Tumbledown Dick," which afforded, as the "Adventurer"
says, a fine moral on the instability of human
greatness, and the consequences of ambition. It
refers, of course, to Richard Cromwell, and his
fall from the power bequeathed to him by his
father Oliver. An allusion to this tumbling propensity occurs in Butler's "Remains," in the tale
of the "Cobbler and the Vicar of Bray:"—
"What's worse, old Noll is marching off;
And Dick, his heir apparent,
Succeeds him in the Government,
A very lame Vice-Gerent.
He'll reign but little time, poor tool!
But sink beneath the state,
That will not fail to ride the fool
'Bove common horseman's weight."
Of several of the old inns and taverns of Southwark we shall have occasion to speak when dealing
with the High Street; but we may remark here
that those in Bank side, and along by the river
generally, had a peculiar characteristic of their
own, which has been well described by Charles
Dickens in "Our Mutual Friend" and some other
of his works. George Augustus Sala, too, in his
"Gaslight and Daylight," tells us, with a certain
amount of drollery, how that "the Surrey shore
of the Thames, at London, is dotted with damp
houses of entertainment;" and then he goes on to
describe the typical waterside public-house, the
"Tom Tug's Head," as "surrounded on three
sides by mud, and standing on rotten piles of
timber, and with its front always unwashed."